End of story
by Too Much Rain
Summary: Cameron made a difficult medical choice. She refuses to talk about it; she just wants to be alone. House has a different opinion. Cameron/House. General/Romance/Angst. Set in the season 2


**Disclaimer**: Gregory House, Allison Cameron and the roof of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital are the unique properties of FOX and David Shore.

A huge Thank you to my Beta, Jayne Casey and her infinite patience in front of my exotic english grammar.

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**End of story**

Cameron didn't care about the drops of condensation running down her forehead. The soda can felt cool against her skin. She rarely rode on the roof of the hospital, having no reason to do so considering that she was a non-smoker and not so fond of heights. Yet, it was there that she had chosen to return. She leaned against the railing, her head bowed. The place was quiet, deserted and strangely attractive in this hot and sultry evening. The lights of the city formed a golden halo reflecting off of the low-hanging clouds. This vision was a great comfort.

She didn't have to turn around when she heard the door creak. Her boss's typical walk was heard as he approached and stood beside her, stifling a groan.

"I'm too old to play hide and seek. I've been looking everywhere for you in this damn hospital for an hour and I'm crippled!"

She didn't change her position, merely sighing into her hands.

"Yeah, this hiding spot is really cool!"

"I really miss your 'obsessive centrifuge phase'." His voice was neutral and dispassionate. House seemed exhausted "It's past eleven p.m. and for your information, if someone pays ...two hours of professional ... services, this… professional does not pay back, even if Cuddy beeps you only after 30 minutes."

One more act of provocation to add to the list didn't bother Cameron. She came here for peace; his company didn't change a thing. She had no desire to talk or anything of the sort to Gregory House M.D. The day had been hard enough without having to be under her boss's microscope. She continued to sip her drink; he might give up ... or not.

House didn't care about the attitude of the young woman. In a word, it mattered little.

"Would you share with the class what you're looking at, please?" He asked, trying to identify what could be so interesting in the distance.

She turned her gaze, almost despite herself. She either always ended up answering him or he always ended up making her talk. It was one of their old habits. Once again, she accepted this simple fact.

"The city: we only see bright spots." Cameron's voice was calm. "We have no idea what is really happening there."

"I'm going to tell you what happens." House frowned. This entire story was ridiculous "An old man gets hit by his car and a cheerleader is raped, and yet, it's more likely the opposite."

She knew he had added his final words to make her smile, but she refused his attempt, continuing her way of thinking.

"Maybe, but I don't know that. Yet, for a precious minute, I find it just beautiful and soothing."

"Move up to the roof. Cuddy will lend you a skirt. It'll make a very handy tent!" House waited a long time, but she didn't respond. Then, he continued, harder, his patience waning. He knew perfectly well why she was there, what upset her and this entire situation highly annoyed him. "You wouldn't endure to live here, it may be quiet and protected but this is not real life. There is always something ugly under these lighted spots. And whose hand are you going to hold?? I'm not going to kneel to this crappy floor every night!"

"If I recall well, I never held the hand of anyone." She retorted dryly

"And be sure, this is not about to happen," House muttered, he was rummaging in the pocket of his jeans.

Quickly and to signify the end of the conversation, he took the drink from the hands of the young woman and mechanically gulped a Vicodin. For a short time and despite the events and the why of the presence of her superior, Allison found herself mesmerized by the scene: the lips of this man where hers were a few seconds before ... This thought was ridiculous, almost teenage, but she couldn't help it. A nightmarish date, a condescending analysis of her so-called "need", the firm resolve to not letting it take and move on, even a one night stand with Chase and now, effort was being erased by a stupid bubbly drink. It was so depressing.

Upon recovering her soda, their fingers brushed more than necessary. They both were well aware of the sudden intimacy of the gesture. Awkwardness and an indefinable feeling overwhelmed both of them. House ended up rolling his eyes; he had no desire to explore this famous feeling. He was thirsty; he took a drink, period. As smoothly as he could, he stepped back to sit on a huge outflow pipe. With a weary movement, he passed a hand through his hair as he did dozens of times a day, fatigue overcoming him. He was no more so convinced he wanted a conversation with Cameron now. Tomorrow morning, the spirits will be pacified.

He spoke quietly; Cameron chose to ignore if it was out of kindness or fatigue.

"Tomorrow morning, the legal department will want to see you, no doubt. You better be prepared and get some sleep, we-"

"I don't regret my action," she interrupted sharply. "Those children had the right to say goodbye to their mother. I don't care about the order to not resuscitate. I had three minutes to make a decision; the children hadn't arrived yet, the husband begged me to save them some time, so I intubated her. It wasn't a great help, but at least her children got to say goodbye. I'm sure she wanted it. End of story!" She insisted like a stubborn child.

"Helping to do what exactly?" House also took up anger, his cane thumping the ground. "She'll live one day, big deal! They'll hold her hand and she'll know nothing about it. You didn't give them back their mommy, but a vegetable hooked to a respirator, thank you Doctor!" House breathed deeply, his frustration was obvious. Perhaps he should've given more importance to her behaviour, but for God's sake, employees are here to make his life easier. Sometimes, it seemed to the contrary.

"Cuddy talked to her husband, obviously he won't press charges and you can thank Jesus, Buddha, and Mickey Mouse that she had no other immediate family. Apart from a slap on the wrist, nothing can happen to you."

"Why do you suddenly care?" Cameron almost shouted her anguished response.

"I care because I don't want one of my employees to waste her time and therefore mine, in the office of an attorney or stashed on the roof of a building to mourn the sad reality of this world. People die, soccer moms die, puppies die and sometimes you don't have time for the last farewell. You do your best and yet they still die. And putting a tube down their throat makes no difference. Life sucks! We put a name on her illness, we di-ag-nos-tic-ate! It's our job. There was no solution. As expected, her condition worsened, she became comatose and she didn't want resuscitation. That's it, end of story!"

"But we didn't get her a treatment and she didn't know it would be so fast." There was a hint of plea in Cameron's voice.

House refused to respond other than by a sneer of contempt. This conversation annoyed him; he preferred looking at her, almost afflicted. After some seconds, he could not help but add, "So, why was all this? Ease your conscience? Apologize to the kids to have missed the clue ... or a sick pleasure and I must say quite repetitive to reproduce the past?"

All of the blood rushed out of the young woman's face. He was patronizing her! It was still unbearable, especially on this subject and especially tonight. He had no right to worry, nor the right to discuss her past, nor to play it like a key that would open all doors. Before even thinking about it, she grabbed the can and hurled it at House's face.

Taken by surprise, he failed to prevent the object bouncing off of his arch; blood flowed immediately. For a few seconds, as if caught by surprise and amazement, neither of them reacted. Their eyes never left, each breath was a copy of the other, deep and painful. Cameron shook herself from her daze first and opened her mouth but nothing came out. There was nothing to say. They had gone too far. Without taking her eyes from him, she slowly took off her lab coat, folded it several times and then walked towards him. Tears were threatening at the edge of her eyes. House still didn't speak or move. Aside from the slight trickle of blood, his face showed no pain, no anger, just expectation. Allison didn't like this feeling, he was observing her and waiting for an answer she was unable of giving. After a pause, she knelt between his legs. Fortunately, the wound was superficial. With her right hand, she pressed the cloth against the wound and put her other hand behind his neck to keep his head in a comfortable position for both of them. His skin was warm. It was a strange and soothing sensation. She slightly felt him shuddering, perhaps because of pressure against the cut, perhaps because of her contact. It didn't matter to the young woman. She was probably already fired. She almost wished that. Sometimes, she felt like she didn't have any control over anything and then, her job didn't matter. Changing for another service would probably be positive, maybe the E.R. Changing her boss would likely be safer. House will always keep score in a game she hadn't even agreed to play to start with.

"I will survive, you know," House's cavernous voice startled Allison. With a brief movement, he stepped back and grabbed the stained fabric. Grimacing at the sight of dried blood, he threw it carelessly to the side. Allison's left hand was still on his neck, he had not completely cleared, and even if he managed for not looking straight at his employee, their faces were always very close. Minutes passed before House began to speak, and when he did, it was almost a confession.

"When you started your work here, some people were worried about you. They thought you weren't cut out for this job. You didn't have enough hindsight to manage patients and research study would be a better way to use your qualifications. A simpler choice, a more cautious choice." He paused to finally cross her look. "I never thought that and I really believe you c-"

Cameron didn't let him finish. She refused to accept another analysis, Right or wrong. She refused to know or hear about anything. Without knowing exactly why, she kissed him. First, with caution then as House encouraged it, it became far more intense and meaningful. They were two equal participants in the same dance, the same battle. During the kiss, despite the heat, the feeling of accomplishment and the delicious sensation of his body against hers, she couldn't help but think that maybe House was right about real life not being here and that this kiss wasn't real too. Without doubt, all she could win in the end was this stolen kiss. As she expected, House's intense stare immediately shied away as they broke apart. The low lighting didn't allow Allison to decipher the man's thoughts. To be frank, even in bright sunlight, it was sometimes difficult to her. She only perceived his warm breath against her hair. A fragile moment, she clearly detected him moving towards her, pressing her against his body, his strong hands stiffened on her shoulders as to bring her to him. Stealthily, he changed his mind and finally offered his deep blue sight. Cameron discovered sadness, apology, irony and others things he was not ready to give. When he straightened up, everything had disappeared.

House gazed at her with a sly smile, one eyebrow raised and as usual when something bothered him, he swerved the conversation as if nothing ever happened.

"Professional misconduct, assault AND sexual harassment, all in less than 24 hours." He then whistled in a long and exaggerated way. "Dr. Allison Cameron, all my respect!"

Cameron got up to turn, stifling what could pass for a laugh. How did she get caught up in this game?

"You're right, it's late. I'll see you tomorrow, Good night, House," Her tone was bittersweet, she toyed some seconds with her stained lab coat, before adding somewhat contritely, "Don't forget to disinfect this cut." She didn't wait for his answer and turned toward the door. She blamed her slightly spinning head on straightening too quickly. Yeah, that was the only logical explanation.

"Cameron!" House voice was clear, almost too strong in the silence. He had taken back his place against the railing. "It's never the end of the story."

There was no safe answer to that. It wasn't exactly a question or a statement. And she wasn't even certain of the precise meaning of his words: the comatose mother, her future career or... their kiss. She merely nodded and resumed her way.

Long after, House was still contemplating the city lights far away. Trying to know what was actually happening there.

The End.

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**Author note** : For some days, the picture of a depressed Cameron on the roof with a bubbly drink was stuck on my mind. Don't ask me why, I don't know but I'll talk to my shrink.  
First, a scientific question: does a half-empty soda can could hurt someone? I really don't know. Don't try this at home, kids!! My point was not to celebrate violence. I just noted that House was kicked by a lot of people, but never by Cameron. It always intrigued me. This gesture was just a way to show all the frustration and anger of Cameron in front of her boss. Concerning the medical choice of Cameron, I'm not here for debating. I spent enough of my life in hospitals to know it's always complicated. Here, it was just a pretext to show the Cameron's sensibility in front of loss and death. We're around season 2, Cameron is not exactly what she is during season 6 about all this stuff. And about the last phrase of House, take it like you want. For me, it's an optimistic end. There's always hope!


End file.
